


Weapon of the Jedi

by Noodle_Soup



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Dark Luke Skywalker, Gen, He loses his voice in a very graphic way fyi, Hurt, Imperial Luke Skywalker, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Luke Skywalker Needs A Hug, Mute Luke Skywalker, Muteness, Obi-Wan fucked up, One Shot, Slavery, Tatooine Slave Culture (Star Wars), Violence, Whump, at the end, or at least my spin at it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:35:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27981642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noodle_Soup/pseuds/Noodle_Soup
Summary: In Obi-Wan’s eyes, Luke was never the little boy with big, bright blue eyes everyone saw. A little boy, with golden hair that rivalled the sun in its pureness.Leia was the princess, the politician that would fight in the war against the Empire.Luke was meant to be the weapon of the Jedi to destroy the Sith.He never realised he would make a mistake that would cost him his life.Or, Obi-Wan left Luke in the sands of Tatooine, rather than taking him to rescue the princess.
Comments: 16
Kudos: 161





	Weapon of the Jedi

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic on here! Of course it would be dark.  
> Anyways, great thanks to my marvellous friend, and the beta for this, [Spell!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpellCleaver/pseuds/SpellCleaver)
> 
> Also a fair warning:  
> In the beginning, Luke is 17 but after the time-skips he is already 18.

Luke felt numb.

His whole body was heavy, something cold settling in his bones. He could barely move, everything around him feeling muted, as he watched the ship leave the space-port.

The sand dug into his skin, drawing blood, as he fell upon the harsh ground, energy leaving his body. He felt empty, all of his hopes gone like sands over a dune, blown apart by a harsh wind. His very own essence was crumbling in his hands, broken by betrayal.

Ben had just left him, alone, in the hive of scum and villainy, as he called it.

The hermit said he would return for him, that he would take him away when he knew the princess was safe. But Luke knew the truth.

He was barely seventeen, but in the fire that claimed his aunt and uncle, he had lost everything. His home, the last of his family. He had nothing to his name except the clothes on his back and the growing despair in his heart.

Ben was a fool if he thought he could just return for Luke, as if nothing happened. Like he did not cause all of this because of the droids, like he did not drag away Luke screaming and kicking, not allowing him to bury his elders - or what was left of them. He dragged him out to the space-port, nearly getting him killed, just to leave him behind in the last moment, like- like he was nothing-

Skywalker was a well-known slave name after all.

Maybe that was what he saw Luke as? A desperate slave that could be tossed aside the moment he was no longer needed?

But no- Ben said he knew his father, saw him as a brother. He wouldn’t leave Luke to the krayts to devour. Or…

Or would he…?

Luke closed his eyes. Of course he would, he already  _ did.  _ He left Luke alone and defenceless, taking away his father’s lightsaber when he wasn’t looking. He claimed Luke wasn’t ready for the wider galaxy, for what awaited them.

Clenching his fists, the hot sands digging into his skin, he did not fight when Jabba’s men surrounded him. His hope was dead, why would he fight?

The Darkness claimed him like its long lost child.

\---

When he was growing up, Aunt Beru always told him hatred was a powerful weapon. Sometimes the only thing a slave had left. She told him to be wary of such feelings, as it could easily consume one otherwise. As a child, he never understood the meaning behind her words. How could one feel such disdain for another being?

Years later, he finally understood it.

The cells in Jabba’s Palace were  _ cold, _ which was unbecoming for the desert planet, but it did not quelch the burning  _ hatred _ that warmed his bones. The feeling that made him carry on, that made him push through the abuse and pain he felt as a slave.

They took his freedom, his name, but they could not take away his feelings, his scorching hatred that he felt for those that did this to him.

He never really learned why Ben did this to him. Why he felt that he wasn’t ready.

But he grew to  _ hate _ the hermit.

Every time he was punished, every lash, every bruise and broken bone, he recalled the day in the hot sands as he watched the ship leave the gods-forsaken planet.

Who gave him the power to do this to Luke? Who was he to decide that the first-born Skywalker should become a slave, abandoned in the sands? Who was he, to coat his tongue in sweet honey and lie to Luke about how they would leave together and save the princess?

A year ago, he would have forgiven Ben, smiled and waved the old man off, told him it was nothing.

But that innocence had long died, buried alongside his family in the merciless sands, marked with a horrid scar across his stomach.

The skin of his throat still itched, still felt raw from the collar he had worn when they first dragged him in, but nothing hurt as much as the knowledge that somewhere in his body laid a small chip that could decide if he lived or died.

_ A slave chip. _

It sent shivers down his spine every time as he thought about it. He was a disappointment to his name, to the memory of his grandmother, of his father who freed the name Skywalker.

Jabba had once made one such comment himself,  _ No Skywalker could ever be free. _ And he was right. Luke did not deserve the name of his father, but he would prove himself, he would free the name once more. 

The Suns, the Moons, and the Desert be his witness, Skywalker would be a free name once again.

\---

Luke hummed, the words in the back of his throat, as he worked. Today, he was cleaning the boiler room, repairing the various droids thrown around, the guards lurking at the edges of the room, keeping an eye out for all of them.

The cleaning acids burned at his cracking skin, his fingers spasming in pain, but he ignored it, scrubbing at the filthy ground. The song was old, a tradition among the slaves exchanged in hushed tones, a rallying cry and a mourning tune. He often used it to calm the youngest of them, to help them avoid the punishment of making too much noise.

_ Fates _

He was too consumed in his work to hear the heavy steps approaching behind him, and before he could react, he heard the dreaded words: “ _ Grab him _ .”

_ Weave their threads _

At first, he tried to fight, feeling how his arm was nearly wrenched out of its socket, but soon enough he went limp, resigned to his fate.

_ Our lives are sewn _

When he looked up, he saw one of the guards snarl in his face, “ _ Filthy slave, wanting a rebellion, huh?” _

_ Born _

Instead of answering the guard, Luke set his shoulders and opened his mouth, the words spilling forth, the language old but  _ powerful _ as he sang, the other slaves finally looking towards them with wide eyes.

_ To a life _

His voice did not crack, even as they grabbed him by his hair, making him face the dark ceiling. He sang, not for himself, but for the others around him.

_ All but our own _

He heard what the guard was doing, but he was unable to see it. He closed his eyes, knowing what they would do next, the damaged skin on his hands tensing as he balled them into fists. But he kept singing, even as he heard the first guard move his tools.

_ We feel it inside _

Deep down, he wished others would join him, but the rational part of him knew it would just cause them all more pain. All he needed was for them to listen, to carry on.

_ Our bones _

The moment they grabbed his jaw and wrenched it open, his song was stopped, but the heaviness in the air did not disappear. Even the warmth of the boiler room could not stop the shivers he felt along his spine.

_ It’s in the blood _

It was torture. He wanted to scream, to cry, to spit at the guard who was doing this to him. The acids they used for cleaning burned his throat, scraping at the tender skin, making his eyes water. The guards held him still, his struggling useless. It felt like all the water was sucked out of his body, making him feel dry, almost like he spent an entire day in the desert without any water. His muscles convulsed, trying to make him gag, to expel this unknown enemy, but he knew he couldn’t.

_ It’s in the blood _

Once the bucket clattered to the floor, Luke soon followed, the guards leaving with a barked,  _ Get back to work, slaves! _ The pain was unimaginable as he tried to gasp, the air dragging knives across his tattered throat, making his cough, in an endless cycle of pain. With a heave, the poison was finally expelled from his body, damaging it even further. He could vaguely recognise blood mixed with the acid.

_ It’s in the blood _

He collapsed, his eyes unable to focus, the pain making a home in his body. Slowly, he closed his eyes once again, drifting off in a haze of suffering.

He would never find out his eyes were gold just then.

\---

It was a miracle he survived, the others said. They said he had to be one of the chosen ones, had to be one of  _ Them _ , for the Fates to spare him.

His faith in the Gods did not run that deep, but he had to admit his survival was odd. But they did not realise the price he had paid for being able to continue this suffering of existence.

They took his voice.

He found out when he awoke in the slaves’ quarters, only a slight wheezing able to pass his throat as everything in him burned in pain.

But it was still nothing compared to how hotly his  _ hatred  _ burned, how much he  _ hated  _ the slavers.

That was months ago, but his plan was slowly coming together.

Just before Empire Day was the most opportune moment to join the navy, their thirst to improve their numbers outranking the disgust they felt for low-lives from Outer Rim, like Luke. Usually, if under eighteen, they would require your guardians to sign the application, but he knew that his birthday being so close, he could convince them to graze over it.

Of course, he knew they wouldn’t accept him if they knew he could not speak, but who said they needed to find out?

\---

It was one of the days he was glad they took his voice.

Because he was silent and did what they told him to, he was most often taken to the town, used to drag around their purchases or their sands-forsaken fees.

But he saw his opportunity when the guard he was with was turned around, arguing with some stormtroopers, perfectly close to their dingy little office in Mos Espa.

Giving a last glare to the guard, he snuck in, glad they took off the blasted bells this time, as he was almost as quiet as a womp rat in krayt’s lair. He was surprised at how the bureau looked inside, sandstone walls rather than sleek imperial durasteel. With a shake of his head, he approached the desk, giving the miffed officer a side glance.

He had hoped he could just take a datapad and sign whatever that was needed, but before he could do that, a hand stopped his attempt, the officer looking unimpressed. “And what do we have here,” he barely gave him a glance over, “a  _ slave _ .”

Luke did not react, too well practised to catch the obvious bait. Instead, he stared the officer down before yanking the datapad out from under his hand, getting him an actually surprised look. 

“A  _ defiant  _ slave, it seems.” He waved him off. “Just sign the form-” a pause, “-if you know how to read and write.”

Another remark to get his hackles up, but he just started to fill out the application, wanting to get this over with before his absence was noticed.

Something in his stomach lurched at the idea.

_ Name, Last Name, Date of birth, Species- _

The list went on, but he paid it no heed, setting the datapad down in record speed, with a glare at the officer who just picked it up with a raised eyebrow, looking over the information, “Mister Skywalker?”

Luke gave him a tight nod, his whole body tense until he saw the officer put the pad down, waving him away, “Scram then, you did an…  _ adequate  _ job.”

He did not hesitate before bolting. He prayed to the Desert and her daughters that the guard did not notice his absence.

\---

He did notice.

Which earned Luke a punch to the gut and a promise of fifty lashes when they returned. It still confused him why Jabba did not want to kill him, no matter what, but still stuck a transmitter in him. Clearly, he wanted him as a slave, but  _ why _ was a question that plagued Luke for a long time.

He was so lost in his thoughts he did not notice when he collided with someone.

It left him gasping, his ribs aching from the punch and the dust irritating his scarred throat. A moment and he managed to focus on the body in front of him, blocking out the suns.

It was the officer, the same one from several hours before. Except…

Except he looked like he had seen a real ghost of the Desert, his skin uncommonly pale and clammy, his eyes darting around. Why-

His thoughts were broken away when he felt a tight grip on his arm, looking down to see the officer’s arm clutch at his scarred arm- 

“ _ Three days. _ ” The hiss made Luke’s gaze snap up to eyes filled with  _ fear _ . “At the dawn of the third day, there will be a shuttle. Do  _ not _ be late,” he swallowed, “ _ Please. _ ”

Luke’s eyes widened. The man- he was pleading with  _ him? _ What-

Suddenly, his hair was yanked, pulling him away from the Imperial, before he was once again tossed to the rough sands, “ _ Excuse me, sir,” _ the guard drawled in Huttese, “ _ Hope it did not bother you too much. _ ”

The officer cleared his throat, standing tall. “Just move along, and nothing will happen.” There was a surprisingly sharp look in his eye as he said it, which got the guard to step aside. Jabba’s men never wanted to agitate the Empire, always preferring to make disgusting deals with them. 

Staying still, Luke waited, knowing that if he got up too early, he would be punished, as he had before he learned. Finally, he felt a rough kick to his side, but it made him gasp, gurgling escaping his throat as he felt something  _ snap _ . He felt something bitter hit his tongue, but he simply lifted himself up, keeping his gaze low.

It did not matter.

\---

He stifled his gasps, feeling how the whip licked his back, tearing at the healed - and still healing - flesh with every hit. 

Fifty lashes for running off and fifty for running into the Imperial officer.

Spread across two days to make sure he would survive.

Another lash across his back made him tense up, feeling the blood trickle down his body in a grotesque river of violence. He knew he had to look horrid, the wounds weeping, crisscrossing his scars as he received another lash, the whip cracking in the air like thunder. Warmth engulfed him, before it became razor-sharp pain, air biting at his raw wounds.

But he had to endure it. He had to survive it, and bear the wounds until he could escape. He knew the routine by now.

And he knew that Bib Fortuna would come to oversee the last of his lashes himself. 

After so much time he knew where the Twi’lek kept his detonator. An inner pocket of his robes, close enough so no one would dare run.

Except for Luke.

His eyes watered as he felt yet another crack of the whip connect with his skin, painfully tearing him apart. Snarling, he blinked the tears back, fueling his  _ hatred _ instead, as his hands tightened into fists, tearing at the dry skin around his knuckles. His knees hurt from having to kneel for so long in one position, but none of that mattered to him.

His only goal was to escape.

And  _ nothing _ could stop him.

Golden eyes glared at the bloody sand below him as the whip sliced through the air yet again. 

\---

He ran as he had never before.

His whole body stung from pain, making his determination  _ burn _ , but the most focused point was the pulsating wound slashing through his left eye. He still wondered how he did not lose it.

Luke couldn’t think more about it, he had to get away.

He managed to grab his detonator when everyone was asleep, too drunk on various spice to react to his whisper-quiet movements, but he knew he did not have long.

The guards did not check on the slaves who were punished, expecting most to simply perish during Tatooine’s cold nights. That’s what Luke had above them.

He turned his pain into hatred that warmed him through even the coldest nights.

He would make them all regret destroying his family’s legacy.

Skywalker would be a Free name once more.

\---

Slowly, Luke touched the bacta covering his face, watching as the sun set over the vast ocean, setting it ablaze in a plethora of colours. He sighed, closing his eyes as he felt a gentle breeze brush his scarred face, salty air stinging Luke’s destroyed throat.

It took a moment before he reopened his eyes, contemplating the horizon. His plan had been dangerous, but when he reached the city, the dawn just peeking over the sand mountains, he made it in time. He barely remembered what happened after, the adrenaline fuelled by his pain had slowly left his body, making him dizzy.

But now… Now he was  _ free _ .

His hand dropped from his face to his chest, feeling the remote that could destroy everything he worked for in a blink of an eye-

Something coiled in his stomach, making his eyes harden.

_ No _ .

He was done being controlled.

He was done being left behind.

He was done being the innocent farm-boy.

The hand that rested against the railing clenched, the still stinging wounds marking his skin fueling the fire in his chest.

He would find the one that did this to him.

And he would not hesitate or hold any mercy.

Giving the setting sun one last glance, he turned, stalking towards the Arkanis Academy.

He would kill Ben Kenobi.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can always catch me on my tumblr [ @wizardofstars](https://wizardofstars.tumblr.com), or my art blog [@coralnoodle](https://coralnoodle.tumblr.com)!  
> And again, thank you Spell for beta-ing this
> 
> As a side note, the song used is _[Hades - In the Blood (ft. Ashley Barrett)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ojx8dyes__8)_


End file.
